


Mora

by Cyclosporine



Category: Nexo Knights
Genre: Brief mentions of insomnia, Gen, ramble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyclosporine/pseuds/Cyclosporine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is completely pointless but somebody had to post the first fanfic in this fandom so here I fuckin' am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mora

It's not that he didn't want to sleep, it's just that he couldn't. With his best friend running around the countryside with a cannibalistic book attempting overthrow the government, Clay admittedly had trouble focusing on anything else. Frankly he had no idea how the other knights could relax with that hovering over them at all times. How did anyone sleep with a murder clown trying out a one-man coup d'etat? Much less a murder clown they had been friends with for years.

 So Clay remained painfully awake at all times, the most sleep he could get in before the unending stress dreams forced him awake couldn't be more than an hour. Burning his time training, training for any possible confrontation with Jestro and hoping there was some chance he could bring him back, leave the book behind and _please_ , come back-

 Most thoughts were about Jestro.

Thoughts about what Clay could've done to prevent this, what was going to happen to both of them when this was over, most were about how to preserve the safety of the kingdom’s citizens, and how to keep Jestro safe from the kingdom. You can't just explode a wizard and get away with it, much less steal his possessions and then declare war on the local government. All of that is illegal, and Clay was certain treason wasn't punished with twenty hours of community service.

But for all his worrying there wasn't anything Clay could do. Any fights with Jestro were all too brief, taunts exchanged, verbal barbs thrown over the roar of battle were all too brief. He'd lock eyes and pray that whatever friendship remained was enough for Jestro to just listen, but years of friendship and trust meant fuck-all the second someone charged the otherside, knight or fire demon thing.

Regret followed every battle, victorious or otherwise. Regret over failed tactics, regret over missed opportunities. The ever-present weight of failure was hanging over Clay’s head Each fight was a gamble, with every victory Jestro was further from redemption and each defeat threatened the safety of everything Clay ever cared about.

There was no way to win, failure was the only outcome no matter what; Jestro would either win and the kingdom would dissolve, or the knights would triumph and Jestro would likely die.

Just thinking about either possibility was enough to drive all thoughts of sleep from Clay.

But there was thing he could dream about that didn't give him horrible clown-based night terrors.

The dreams he held onto were always the knight’s academy, before he was leader, before Jestro left, before any of this. The knight’s academy, just him and his friends, Merlock wasn't dead and cannibal books didn't exist.

But now he was leader. Merlock was a hologram, Jestro was gone and the kingdom was in danger. He could dream, but this was the world he woke to.

The dream was sweet while it lasted, but Clay had a job to do. Failure was inevitable, why delay it?

So Clay didn't rest. He couldn't, not until his job was done. His best friend would be captured and tried for treason, and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

 


End file.
